


The One with the Park

by LazlosLulls



Series: Author Appeal [1]
Category: Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon), Sym-Bionic Titan
Genre: Gen, Gender Roles, Good Brother Wirt, after Wirt moves to Sherman, and movie references, friendship begins now!, greg is also non binary and wirt has to talk with him, it's just them getting to know each other, lance is minding his business, lance needs a cultural translator and wirt is good, or rather greg's lack of them gets him into trouble, sort of an epilogue to otgw, then whoop his life is now an anime, they are quiet and each other's speed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-03-22
Packaged: 2019-04-05 17:17:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14049033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LazlosLulls/pseuds/LazlosLulls
Summary: An unexpected meeting at Sherman city’s park leads to some interesting questions asked of Wirt. Also the brothers contemplate which fantasy movie that Lance would like to watch first, while Lance has no idea what they’re talking about.Sym Bionic Titan x Over The Garden Wall. (Setting after SBT stopped filming, during fall ish, approx. a year after ‘that Halloween’.)





	The One with the Park

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: This started out as an experiment to fail at ‘California scenes’ where people spill their big secrets when they first meet. (Lance is an alien soldier who was sent to Earth with his princess and is adjusting to being a protagonist in a robot anime. Wirt was lost in the woods with his brother and almost drowned and turned into edlewood. You’d know that if you’d watched their shows.)

He’d agreed to this, but every step towards the place felt like a step towards his grave. There were several things that could go wrong, and his brain flickered through them like notecards.

Greg was humming along beside him, green frog bag slung carelessly over the six year old’s back. He was a bouncy little kid, eager for adventure, always with a smile on his face. Wrapped up in a blue puffy jacket and gloves, he was practically a ball of winter joy.

Wirt couldn’t be any more different. He was in the middle of growing up, voice cracking, bones stretching his body thin, mind more focused on worrying than adventure. He had a collared shirt under a heavy yellow sweater and jeans. He had no gloves, but had a soft blue cowl he could breathe into.

“Aww c’mon I wanna go!” Greg tugged at his hand once they reached the park.

“No! I gotta stick around to keep you safe!”

“Yeah, but you think about how you look? There’s no teenagers here! You stick out like a sorry thumb!” The six year old gestured to the park, on this bright, chilled November afternoon. It looked inviting, if a little grey. There was barely a line for the swings, which may challenge his plans for today. But first…

“-Sore thumb, Greg. But-ahh ummm…”He cast his eyes around. Nothing but parents and children, and no one in his age range, gosh he’d look real creepy if he stuck around. “Fine, I’ll be over there under the tree.” Wirt pointed to an oak a little bit away from the park. “I’ll have your bag, come find me if you need me.”

“Yes! Home free!” Greg cheered and ran off.

“He’s Greg, he’s…fine.” Wirt said as he shouldered the frog backpack. He winced when Greg tripped and fell into the dirt, but smiled when his brother shot back up like it was nothing. “Yeah, fine.” It still took most of what he had to keep his legs moving. The teenager twirled slightly, sitting himself down under the tree and leaning back against the bark. There was a good view of the park and a nice breeze, and with the sun filtered through the thin, bare branches-barely a leaf remained in the whole park. He breathed in the wet, decaying earth and sighed, deciding that now was the time.

He plucked a journal from Greg’s bag, bookmarked with a pen, and started. Visions, little scraps of songs, feelings of loss and loneliness poured from him, as easy as breathing. A half hour passed, but he was numb to it while under the sleeping tree. So caught up in the moment, he didn’t see someone approach.

“Hello?” they said, interrupting his thoughts. He was chasing a particular memory, but it vanished like shadow under his pen. Wirt looked up, not recognizing the voice. It was Lance. With what looked like a guitar on his back.

Huh. Wirt never pegged him as the musical type. “Hey. What are you doing here?” His voice was crackling, his hands were shaking from the force from which he clutched at his pen.

Wirt was nervous around everyone, but Lance Lunis was something else. Lance and Wirt could have looked each other in the eyes if he was standing. It was partly the reason Wirt was a little afraid of him; the other was that Lance was ripped, covered head to toe in lean muscle. Not like he was a bodybuilding showoff like the football players, but it was _there_. An unstated strength. Not to mention the eyes – so black he could hardly tell if there was anything behind them. And he didn’t really talk, as far as Wirt knew.

“I’m here to practice. I can…go, if you want.”

“No, it’s fine! There’s plenty of room,” Wirt patted the spot beside him, “I probably need to take a break anyway.”

Lance pulled his guitar from his back and sat down with him, “You were mumbling to yourself a little.” He offered.

Wirt shot back. “Oh, yeah, that happens when I write poetry. Oh! I-I already have the homework done, do you need help?”

“No.” he started strumming, conversation over. Wirt closed his eyes, leaning back against the tree. Usually, Lance was inscrutable, so quiet Wirt barely knew what to think of him. But this quiet felt calming, so he turned to a fresh page in his journal. Time to think of the known. Wirt jotted down a list. Then a poem, then a reminder, a quote, another little seed of a poem, all to the sounds of Lance’s guitar.

They’d hit upon a song that both of them knew, so Wirt was singing in tune to the fall breeze.

Greg wandered up and observed the scene. “Where’s Wonderwall?”

Wirt tensed, “What?” Lance cut off the notes with a sharp twang. “Greg! Umm this is my friend Lance,” he cast his hands over, “Lance, this is my little brother, Greg.”

The child beamed, “Oh, are you talking to my brother Wirt? He loves listening to his own voice! And he’s really good at explaining things, I’d bet he’d help you!” he said, then leaned closer and stage whispered. “I’m helping!” Greg winked, making it obvious. “Anyway can I have a hair clip?”

Wirt took a moment to blink, “Yeah, yeah. Here, you can pick it.” He dug into Greg’s little frog bag and grabbed an assortment of rainbow colors.

“Hmmm-The cute one!” he grabbed the sparkling purple clip, waiting for Wirt to pin his hair back. “Have fuunn!” he called over his shoulder, and Wirt couldn’t stop the blush.

Lance’s silence changed from easy to hesitant. He started plucking at his guitar, but frowned, “Do you think that someone has played this song before?”

Thankful that Lance didn’t seem to notice, Wirt answered. “Yeah. It’s ‘Cat’s in the Cradle’, it’s a really popular song.”

“No, I mean, has every song been played before, and we just don’t know it. Is it stupid to just, keep composing when the song’s been done before? Has everything been thought of?”

Wirt pulled upon his experiences back home, “Well, if we take the fact that the universe is older than we can understand, plus alien lifeforms, plus how much the human mind thinks over the course of a lifetime…maybe?”

“So, if it’s been done, why are we doing it? Why are we just taking the same steps, over and over?”

“Hmm. Maybe it’s because we need to? Like, with your guitar, you practice the chords first until you understand them. Okay, if I just gave Greg a clip, instead of letting him choose, it would mean less to him. Greg gets a clip anyway, but because it’s a color that he wants and chooses, it’s important. I play clarinet, and I can tell you the time that I put into learning the songs, whether I copy someone or not, helps me. It doesn’t matter what it means on a larger scale, but it has meaning to me.”

Lance nodded, and the dark parts of his eyes suddenly flattened into something more familiar. “You play clarinet?”

“Yeah, you have to play an instrument to be part of marching band.” Wirt shrugged.

“Nice.”

Wirt doodled a few more hearts in his journal, then added prose about the virtue of smiles. Lance attempted to compose his own melody. They had a peaceful companionship, at least for a little while longer.

Greg quickly returned, out of breath. “Wirt!” his eyes flickered to Lance, and he paused, “Uncle Endicott’s funny chickens are coming to get us, Wirt! We gotta get inside!” Greg was favoring his left leg a little. His hair was mussed, purple clip gone.

Wirt noticed and snapped his journal shut. His smile was forced, but hopefully his friend wouldn’t notice and his brother wouldn’t care. “Yeah, we’d better get home, Piggyback ride?”

Greg smiled, immediately brightening. “Yeah!”

“Here, take your bag. Lance, we gotta go.” Wirt said, more to the ground as he kneeled for Greg to get on. He felt little hands grasp at his cowl, a heavy presence on his back, but at smile at his ears. He started to walk away.

“Hey, I’ll help you home.” Lance appeared by his side, walking at their slow pace.

“Yeah. That’d be good. Thanks.” Greg shifted around on Wirt’s back so he could see.

Lance hesitantly smiled back, and that’s when Greg knew that he had to keep this going. “Hey wanna know what we’re learning about in class? Trees! I think our teacher wants us to grow some! I wanted to grow some Edelwood, but my teacher says that it doesn’t exist.”

“Edelwood?” Lance tilted his head, curious.

Wirt clarified. “Edelwood was a kind of tree that grew near our hometown. It’s really tall, rare kind. If you ground it up, you’d get Edelwood oil, which makes a really bad light, but it’s still _light_ , so colonial people would use it as lantern fuel until they got out of the forest.”

Greg started bouncing on his back, “Ohh tell him the thing! The creepy thing!”

Wirt winced, “Well, if you get so lost in the woods, very lost, and if you didn’t ‘keep hearty in both body and spirit’,” he said the last in a deeper voice, “Edelwood will grow around you and forest will take you as its own. And eventually, you get chopped down for the oil. I’ve never really seen Edelwood chopped down, but I’ve heard, every so often, there’s one that’s hollow.” Okay, that was too weird, Wirt decided, not liking the confused look on Lance’s face. He added, “It’s really a legend, probably started as a warning not to go into the woods without proper supplies.”

Greg started squirming on his back, “No! I meant about the oil! It’s black like cooked blood! And the trees have all these scary faces! So it’s a PERFECT tree to study!” the child smiled wide. And suddenly both of them chuckled, gloom lifted.

“That’s a little too creepy for first graders, Greg. Did you talk to your teacher?” Wirt said.

“She just doesn’t understand artistic integrity.”

“I’ll help you pick a new tree.”

“Ooo what about those Silver Oaks from Lord of the Rings?”

“Lord what-?”

“We don’t live in Middle Earth, Greg.” Wirt stopped in his tracks, noticing his friend again. “Wait, you haven’t heard of-“

“My family isn’t really into…”

“Ehh. I’ve got a copy, if you wanna try to watch it.” He shrugged as much as he could. “But it’s hard to care about if haven’t grown up with it.”

The six year old groaned, “And it’s so looong! Maybe we should start with something shorter! Like the Princess Bride!”

“Yeah, that’s a good fantasy film to start with. Dropping you right in Middle Earth might be a bit much. Oh! What about Stardust?”

“Blech. Those witches were nasty. Oh?” Greg tapped his hand to his chin, “Elpha-bet?” he said, using a nickname.

“What, the Wicked Witch of the West? Yeah, the Wizard of Oz is probably good. Have you seen that?”

“No.”

Greg was off on the next movie, “Yubaba and Zeniba! And that Noh Masky faced guy!”

“…Miyazaki movies are still pretty long.” Wirt hemmed, “I haven’t even asked what kinds of movies that you like. Lance?”

The teenager was quiet, watching the back and forth between the brothers. Both of them looked at him expectantly.

“Uhh, nothing too crazy, alright. I trust you guys.”

"Well, they are playing Princess Bride at the theater! Wirt's gonna take me!"

Lance asked. “Some kind of special event?"

“Yeah. The orchestra is really excited; we’re all going to go as a group, do you want to join us? Ilana and Newton can come too if they want.” Greg beamed into Wirt’s cowl.

“I’ll…I’ll see what’s going on that night.”

“No pressure.” He suddenly stopped at the suburbs, looking up and down the streets. “I’ve got this from here. Thanks for keeping us company, Lance. I’ll see you at school. Don’t be a stranger.”

Greg waved for him, and Lance waved back. “I’ll see you in class.” the teen said, turning away.

“Bye Lance!” Greg yelled. He paused, waiting a second until he was out of sight. Wirt was making his way down the street to their house. The six year old decided to whisper, “I like him. When are you going to tell him that you like him?”

Wirt froze, blush staining his cheeks.

-

**End notes:**

~~Wirt’s got a crush on _LAANNCCEE_ ~~ Chill people who could wrestle him into the ground seem to be his type. I headcanon Wirt’s gender and sexuality as a photo of Wirt, shrugging. So, non-binary, pan-romantic and pansexual if you need labels. He’s still a nervous, socially awkward nerd though.

-

Greg is non binary, gives no ducks about gender and all that. Likes being cute and wearing cute things. It used to rub Wirt the wrong way, he thought that Greg was spoiled because their parents let him wear anything, but he softened after OTGW happened. He knows how dickish parents and or their kids can be so he’s always ready if Greg needs to leave.

-

Wirt knows. If he just spends an afternoon recalling exactly what happens around Lance and his family he’d know that they were involved in Titan. Because once you’ve accepted the Unknown, you can believe anything.

-

Greg was a little sneaky thing and deliberately mentioned Princess Bride so Wirt and Lance would start hanging out. He’s _helping_! Lance and his family go to the  Princess Bride show with the band kids. They cosplayed and Wirt basically quoted the movie and it was a fun night. After that once a week Lance goes and sits with Wirt at lunch with the band kids. One day Wirt will stop blushing. They accept Lance with open arms, even if he doesn’t understand their movie references.

-

(lance) “You think that we’re alone in the universe?”

“…a giant monster came in from space last week, fought off by an alien protector that we don’t even know anything about. We’re not alone in the universe.”

(Lance was asking, which is hilarious, because he’s a flipping alien, and Wirt’s response is dry as the desert. I can’t just let this not be seen.)

-

**Epilogue**

Wirt made Greg sit down and put his leg up. The teenager frowned, suddenly reminded of why Greg had to piggyback home.

The six year old saw the frown. “Sorry you had to carry me. Sorry I got hurt.”

Wirt went and grabbed a towel from a drawer and an icepack from the freezer. “Its fine, Greg. Ugh, I mean it’s not fine that they hurt you, it’s – it’s not your fault. They just, little boys they always want to hurt what they don’t understand.” He swiped the towel across his brother’s face, getting the dirt as best he could.

Greg squirmed, “But I don’t!”

“Well, that’s because of what Mom and Dad taught us. But they don’t have a Mom or a Dad like ours. They’re parents probably don’t let them run around in long hair and pick out girly toys. So, when they see you having fun with your dolls _and_ your trucks, they get mad. The boy rules apply to them, but they don’t apply to _you_ , so they just get mad at you.” Wirt explained. “I’m gonna check this, say something if it hurts.” He pressed his fingers to Greg’s ankle, finding it slightly swollen.

Greg’s face fell, “Aw. Will they ever get to play with dolls?”

“Not if their parents say they can’t. And then they’ll grow up and their little boys won’t be let to choose their own toys, because that’s not how they were raised. This is going to be cold,” he put an ice pack to Greg’s ankle. “It should stop the swelling and the pain for a bit. What those kids did…It’s a vicious cycle, Greg. I’m sorry you got hurt.”

“That’s dumb. So, it’s not okay for me to wear a sparkly clip just because I’m a boy?” he asked.

“No! It’s,” he wrung his hands, “most people don’t like it. It’s perfectly fine to do whatever that you do, you’re not hurting anyone! It’s, please, the world is just messed up, alright? When you’re home, you can be however cute you wanna be, if it’s a dress or just a clip ok?”

“Okay…”

“And if you’re scared to do it, don’t until you’re sure that people aren’t going to hurt you. I know it’s a lot like lying, and everyone says to be true to yourself, but...” Wirt trailed off, hunting for a reason.

“But no one is going to like me if I’m getting hurt all the time.” Greg answered.

Wirt’s eyes grew sad, but he smiled anyway. “Yeah. Want some cocoa?”

“Hmmm, okay.” The child nodded.

**The End**


End file.
